Nothing Like Her
by Fire The Canon
Summary: Merope knew that no matter how hard she tried, she would always be ugly; she would never be as pretty as the girl dancing. WARNING: mentions of abuse.


_**Written for the 335 Pairing Bonanza Challenge (MeropeDorcas)**_

 _ **Written for the Prompt Relay Challenge (comparison)**_

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 **Nothing Like Her**

She watched the slim, pretty girl as if her life depended on it. The blonde laughed and danced with men as if it came naturally to her. She was a flirt, and the men appreciated it.

The girl on the other side of the ballroom – the girl watching – was nothing like the pretty one dancing. That girl was ugly; she was abused by men – physically and emotionally. Her father and brother thought she was more worthless than the mat they wiped their feet on. She couldn't do magic properly and she became fascinated with men that were not like her.

She watched with a battered face as the pretty girl laughed and danced. All men's eyes were on the blonde one, they didn't even seem to notice the brunette in the corner.

Only one person noticed the girl in the corner – and that was the one she had spent the night watching with longing.

"I'm Dorcas," the girl introduced herself. "Dorcas Meadowes." Even as she spoke she twirled.

"I-I'm Merope," the other answered shyly.

"Why are you not dancing?"

When Merope didn't answer, Dorcas indicated to the men who were surrounding her to leave. She had them so wrapped around her finger that they obeyed without question.

"I think you're beautiful," she stated, placing her thumb over the bruise on Merope's face, where her brother had become angry for leaving a crease in his robes. "Who did this to you?"

Merope still didn't answer. She turned away, refusing to look at the beautiful girl in front of her. She just reminded her of everything she was not.

"Men can be cruel," Dorcas said. "Brutal. They do not care for what is inside of you; they only care for what is on the outside. They care for pretty faces and big breasts. They care if your hair is long or short, or if you have blemishes on your skin."

Looking at her feet, Merope finally spoke. "My brother did this to me."

"Your brother?" Dorcas sounded aghast. "The one man in a woman's life who is supposed to treat her with respect?"

Merope nodded, and Dorcas sighed.

"Men can be cruel," she repeated.

"How… how do I become beautiful like you?"

Dorcas was taken aback by the question – as if she had not expected it… or believed what Merope seemed to think. "I am not beautiful," she stated.

"I want to be beautiful like you," Merope continued, not hearing Dorcas. "I want to be able to dance with the men and to have them look at me with lustful eyes. I want to feel their gentle touch on my skin."

"Men do not have gentle touches," Dorcas said darkly.

"Please," Merope said desperately. "Teach me how to be beautiful!"

"I cannot teach what is already there."

Merope was deaf to the compliments.

"You know what I will teach you?" Dorcas said after a moment of contemplation. "I will teach you that you do not need a man in your life. If they are cruel to you – which they have been – you do not need them." She gently took Merope's rough hands – years of hard, Muggle labour had put callouses on them which should only belong to those who worked in the factory – and sat on a bench.

Merope sat with her, looking frantically around.

"Please," she begged, "I must –"

Dorcas shook her head. "I will teach you to be beautiful," she said. "To be beautiful, you need to be yourself."

Merope was silent again.

"To be beautiful, you need to not try and impress every man that walks by; to dress so skin is showing. To be beautiful you need to show a man your soul. A man who sees your soul is a man who is worth keeping."

Merope didn't seem to understand, for she looked Dorcas up and down, and said, "You must have an open soul."

Dorcas smiled kindly, shaking her head. "No man has seen inside of me. They have only seen the outside. And, yes, they can please you for a short while; but in the throws of passion, they are considered to be the most important.

"No – Merope, isn't it? – you do not need a man, you need somebody who will love you for who you are. I have seen inside of you, Merope, and you _are_ beautiful." Dorcas reached out and stroked the brunette girl's cheek. "You're beautiful to me, and I've just met you."

It was becoming more obvious to everybody there, that the men were becoming restless as they waited for the beautiful, big-breasted girl to return. Throughout Dorcas' conversation with Merope, they had inched forward. One had even attempted to pull her away from the 'ugly wretch', but she had ignored them all.

"If you ever need somebody to tell you you're beautiful, I'm here, Merope." Dorcas cupped the girl's face with her soft hands. She turned her head so that they were looking eye to eye.

"What a waste of a night," a distant, male voice said, but he went ignored.

Dorcas was looking into the terrified eyes of Merope Gaunt – the girl who had been beaten and abused for most of her life – and she was falling in love with every second that passed them. Ignoring the calls for her to return to the dancefloor, she leaned forward so their lips were almost touching. Before she closed the gap, she whispered one last thing: "You're the most beautiful person I have ever laid eyes on."

The kiss shocked Merope. She had not expected it. Dorcas wanted her to enjoy every moment, but she couldn't. She could not enjoy the kiss, because she knew she was ugly.

For the whole time, all Merope could think about was how horrible she was. She knew she would never be as beautiful as Dorcas Meadowes. Never. No matter how hard she tried.

She was nothing like her.

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 _ **I know most people place Dorcas in the Marauder Era, but she actually has no canonical era, so I thought (to be different) I'd put her in the Riddle one - or earlier.  
**_

 _ **This kind of just came out as I wrote, but I hope you enjoyed it. I had fun writing it, and I would love to hear your thoughts! Please don't forget to leave a review!**_


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